"Up yonder, on the mountain," answered her sister. "It looked like a great blue carpet under the bushes." Katinka put the bouquet in her bosom and did not even thank the poor child. The next morning the wicked sister, as she sat idling by the stove, took a fancy for some strawberries. "Go to the forest and bring me some strawberries," said she to Dobrunka. "Oh, sister, what an idea! as if there were any strawberries under the snow!" "Hold your tongue, stupid fool, and do as I bid you. If you don't go to the forest and bring me back a basket of strawberries, I will beat you to a jelly." The mother took Dobrunka by the arm, put her out of the door, and drew the bolt on her. The poor girl returned to the forest, looking with all her eyes for the light that she had seen the day before. She was fortunate enough to spy it, and she reached the fire trembling and almost frozen. The Twelve Months were in their places, motionless and silent. "My good sirs," said Dobrunka, "please to let me warm myself by your fire; I am almost frozen with cold." "Why have you returned?" asked January. "What are you looking for?" "I am looking for strawberries," answered she. "This is not the season for them," returned January, in his gruff voice; "there are no strawberries under the snow." "I know it," replied Dobrunka, sadly; "but my mother and sister will beat me to a jelly if I do not bring them some. My good sirs, please to tell me where I can find them." Old January rose and, turning to a man in a golden mantle, he put his staff in his hand, saying, "Brother June, this is your business." June rose in turn, and stirred the fire with the staff, when, behold! the flames rose, the snow melted, the earth grew green, the trees were covered with leaves, the birds sang and the flowers opened--it was summer. Thousands of little white stars enameled the turf, then turned to red strawberries, looking, in their green cups, like rubies set in emeralds. "Make haste, my child, and gather your strawberries," said June. Dobrunka filled her apron, thanked the Twelve Months, and joyfully ran home. You may imagine the astonishment of Katinka and the stepmother. The fragrance of the strawberries filled the whole house. "Where did you find these things?" asked Katinka, in a disdainful voice. "Up yonder on the mountain," answered her sister; "there were so many of them that they looked like blood poured on the ground." Katinka and her mother devoured the strawberries without even thanking the poor child. The third day the wicked sister took a fancy for some red apples. The same threats, the same insults, and the same violence followed. Dobrunka ran to the mountain, and was fortunate enough to find the Twelve Months warming themselves, motionless and silent. "You here again, my child?" said old January, making room for her by the fire. Dobrunka told him, with tears, how, if she did not bring home some red apples, her mother and sister would beat her to death.